


Perfect as Love Itself

by tipsybluetips



Category: DDT Pro-Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Golden Lovers, M/M, Porn with Feelings, sad boner energy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 08:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17525261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tipsybluetips/pseuds/tipsybluetips
Summary: Kota Ibushi moves from the Junior to the Heavyweight Division and Kenny Omega knows he cannot keep up with his golden lover anymore, but he tries for one more night.





	Perfect as Love Itself

**Author's Note:**

> Fic 1 out of 3 for the Golden Lovers requests I took at twitter a couple of weeks ago - this one had the BTS song "Fake Love" as a prompt to set the mood, though rest assured, just the fic title comes directly from it.  
> Set a few years back, Budokan showdown-ish time, pre-Bullet Club!Kenny but certainly leading there.
> 
> Thanks unending to my dearest wife for not only giving me the prompt, but also proofreading this one for me, and to LCHime for assuring me things were sounding OK on the first paragraphs when I wasn't super confident.

It feels... perfunctory.

Kenny’s fingertips slide beneath Ibutan’s shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way, caressing the flawless set of muscles on his stomach - his abs are more prominent these days, just like his torso feels wider, more solid to Kenny’s grip as Ibutan holds him against the bedroom wall to kiss him square on the mouth. Kenny kisses back, all tongue and heat, spreading his legs to accommodate the other man closer, hip to hip, chest to chest. Kota grips his hair, pulls his head to the side to expose his neck, draws low moans from Kenny by working teeth and suction to the sensitive skin of his throat. Kota’s other hand squeezes his ass, then holds his leg up, hard, and Kenny’s body knows exactly how to respond - he hoists both legs around Ibutan’s waist, feeling his lover’s erection press against him, hot through their jeans.

They’ve been together for years. The habits of a shared life are well known and can be run on autopilot - preparing meals, jogging to the gym, arguing over whose turn is it to empty the cat’s litter box. Why would sex be any different?

Kenny is beside himself with self-loathing, and that’s exactly why he goes through the motions - the tactile memory, at least, is familiar.

Ibutan finally got promoted into the heavyweight division. Celebration is due, of course. Drinks with the boys will be tomorrow, but today he just came to their apartment with the most brilliant smile on his gorgeous face, crushed Kenny on an ecstatic hug, dropped the news like Christmas came early - so Kenny kissed him for the longest time, congratulated him profusely, and draped himself all over him. Today is a day to celebrate and they’ve always communicated better with their bodies. Kenny can sing Kota all the praise he deserves with his touch and it doesn’t even have to be sincere.

“Fuck me hard, Mr. Heavyweight,” he groans against Kota’s ear, getting his ass squeezed tighter and his throat bitten harder for his efforts.

“Off with these clothes, then,” Ibutan laughs, and there’s so much warmth and affection on his tone that Kenny might tear up if he weren’t busier wondering how a tryhard like himself has managed to hold the attention of someone as wonderful as Kota Ibushi for so long.

Kenny won’t keep him for much longer, though. Ibutan has always been the best one between them, but lately the gap between them grows larger and larger no matter how hard Kenny tries to keep up with his lover. Both professionally and emotionally, falling behind doesn’t feel good but dragging Kota down seems worse, so Kenny pretends neither is happening - ´fake it til you make it´ won’t cut it forever, but hopefully it is enough for tonight. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Kenny says as Ibutan spins them around and throws him to the center of the bed - the remark is as reverent as it is resentful.

Ibutan snorts while he removes his shirt, then kicks his jeans aside as he rolls his eyes at Kenny’s choice of words. “I’m hardly perfect,” Kota crawls into bed, stradling Kenny after he also gets rid of his outer layers of clothing, “Just happy, and horny, and really, really crazy for you.”

Indeed, it must be some sort of insanity - Kota’s failure to realize or to mind that his lover is nothing but deadweight cannot be taken as a sign of a healthy mindset. There was a time when Kenny only felt disproportionately lucky to have Ibutan in his life, but now he doesn’t even know how to feel anymore - admiration turns into envy turns into guilt turns into loneliness turns into fear turns into anger turns into this... ineloquent and convoluted mess that he cannot let anyone see, least of all Ibutan, so Kenny just continues doing what he is doing even though he knows it won’t be good when it all shows.

Everything Kenny feels seems somehow dishonest, but his body is thankfully used to making a good liar out of him. “Ooh, crazy for me? I like the sound of that,” he pulls Kota down to kiss him deeply, slowly, savoring the texture of his lips and the sensation of his face flushing up with desire - Kenny won’t ever forget his undeserved blessings, soon to be gone as they are. Ibutan gets to celebrate however he feels like, even if Kenny knows he could do much better than a washed-up wannabe like himself. “How crazy are we talking, here?” Kenny’s heart may not be in it, since it hasn’t really been anywhere lately, but he has been in love with Kota long enough to know how to act despite his own reservations. “Tell me how you want me.”

It all feels perfunctory yet Kenny is so ready to do anything his Ibutan wants, as long as the better man is still willing to be _his_.

Kota’s smirk is devious, matching perfectly with the way he grinds down on Kenny’s groin. He takes his time letting his fingers and gaze trail down Kenny’s body, caressing the dip between his pectorals and the twin indentures down his hips, watching Kenny’s breathing accelerate both hungrily and warmly. “I want you in every way, always,” Kota answers, almost wistfully, as one of his hands plays with Kenny’s curls and the other pushes lazily at his boxers. Kenny doesn’t miss a beat in helping him discard their underwear, kicking his own away, feeling up Kota’s ass and legs while freeing him of his garment - Kota suddenly holds him by the head, pulls him up, has both of them kneeling on the bed as he kisses Kenny like a summer storm: powerful, devastating, electric and uncontrollable. There’s something primal, verging on possessive but closer to territorially protective on the way Kota handles Kenny by a firm grip on his hair, licking into the blond’s mouth like his life depends on it, sucking on his tongue like he could drain away the fatalistic self-hatred out of Kenny’s speech.

Kota speaks with his body, and Kenny is a piece of shit for being overwhelmed at so much love and care he can only hold onto Kota’s hips and curve his torso closer, barely withstanding the storm. On their knees they stand at the exact same height, sweat-slicked together and grunting as their cocks are trapped side by side against their bodies - that sense of equality is completely artificial. Ibutan chooses to hold Kenny to his own standard, but without his will so, Kenny cannot hope to reach Kota’s level by his own merits. 

Kenny is at Kota’s mercy, and he hates that Ibutan is so great that he dispenses unconditional love where disgust would make so much more sense.

“Show me how you open up to me, please,” Kota pants against Kenny’s lips, foreheads and noses bumping together while incendiary brown eyes stare at deceitful blue. “Give me a spectacle.”

Kenny smiles, kisses a trail of relief down Kota’s neck and collarbones, palms Kota’s erection playfully before turning to the nightstand to grab supplies - Ibutan is kind in asking of him the only thing he’s sure to deliver well. Kenny likes to believe he knows how to please an audience.

Kenny’s last match was a week ago, the next one will be almost a fortnight away - he’s glad to wreck himself today. A little bit of pain has always gone a long way with him, so Kenny decides to prop his back against the headboard and let one leg lie spread on the mattress while he holds the other one bent up with his arm, pushing at the flexibility of his body as his knee brushes his temple. Kenny makes a point of looking filthy - he is on display for his Ibutan, much more interested in letting Kota see the lube-covered fingers of his free hand play with his hole than in doing anything about his own cock, which slowly wets against his stomach, rock hard despite the absence of any direct stimulation.

Kota is transfixed, biting and licking his lips in reaction to Kenny’s performance, outright gasping when Kenny sinks the first finger all the way inside himself and starts pumping, making space for more, fumbling for more lube and all the way back to stretching, moaning minutely with each action. Kota is still kneeling in almost a parody of _seiza_ , left hand gripping his knee for dear life while his right hand squeezes his cock, not stimulating but containing, disciplining, restraining his obvious urge to jump Kenny’s bones.

Such a good spectator deserves a treat, Kenny thinks. “Like this?” he teases, spreading the two fingers he’s got in, opening obscenely for his lover’s sight. “Too tight, maybe? It’s always a close fit, with you… Help me here?”

Kota’s gaze is no less devouring as it climbs Kenny’s body all the way back to his eyes, and the smile he opens as he crawls closer to Kenny makes the blond’s cock twitch into further hardness. “You’re such a gift,” Kota tells him with a sincerity so obvious, so plain to see, that Kenny would be crying if his emotions weren’t overridden by the white-hot pleasure of Kota’s finger joining his two digits inside. There’s this sense of fullness and this lazy forcefulness pushing his walls wider, then Kota licks the head of his erection and starts sucking in rhythm with the insistent pressure of the joined fingers. Kenny finds himself moaning loud enough that they’ll probably get another complaint notice from the neighbors, eyes rolled so far back that everything in the bedroom becomes a blur.

A complaint almost makes its way up Kenny’s throat when Kota pulls away and pushes Kenny’s own hand aside - it dies right there and only echoes out as a breathless gasp as Kota fits both of Kenny’s knees around the broadness of his shoulders and lines up his erection to enter.

Folded in two, with ankles crossed behind his lover’s head and clawing at the bedsheets, Kenny feels none of it is perfunctory when Kota slides his full length inside and whispers “I love you” as his lips touch the hollow of Kenny’s throat.

Kenny is overwhelmed, pulled apart and put back together wrong by every delicious stroke in and out - he is so, so loved by his Ibutan and he isn’t worthy of any of it. The rhythm of Kota’s hips gradually flows from tender care to playful rush, from sharp crescendo to all-consuming taking - Kenny loves him back, is in love with him still, and forever, and he knows love alone cannot keep them this close for that forever. Kota kisses Kenny like he’d die without his Canadian disaster come out of the blue to fight and love him, fucking hard and squeezing Kenny’s thighs as if he’d break without their solidity to ground him - Kenny kisses back with all he has, all he is, all he can be right then and there, and it’s not enough.

Kenny comes anyway, moaning for his Ibutan and spilling white all over his own chest.

It takes Kota a little longer, but Kenny is such an overstimulated mess already that it barely registers - his body knows how to respond, when to squeeze and and when to release, how to scratch blunt nails to Kota’s legs in voiceless begging for something he isn’t really sure what is. Kota tenses hard when he orgasms, three more sharp hip snaps punctuated by groans and he crumples on top of Kenny, only fixing their tangled limbs to the extent none of them is hurt when he pulls out and lets his head rest on Kenny’s stomach.

Sweat is starting to cool and come is starting to dry on their skin when Kota eventually decides to put some manner of space between them - Kenny only realizes he’d been petting Ibutan’s hair when he moves away. “I’ll get you a towel,” Kota says as he sticks his tongue out the corner of his lips, not nearly sheepish enough as he assesses the mess all over Kenny.

“Thanks,” Kenny laughs lightly, watching his lover’s perfect backside disappear in the bathroom.

It’s all cozy and light-hearted and familiar and warm, yet Kenny cannot help feeling he has run out of means to sustain so much dishonesty.

Cleaned and playing little spoon to Kota’s perfect embrace, Kenny perfunctorily realizes this has to be their last time.


End file.
